


fact not fiction (for the first time in years)

by saltwaterheartstrings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/M, stupidly fluffy and absolutely plotless i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwaterheartstrings/pseuds/saltwaterheartstrings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma snuggled closer, tangling her legs with his beneath the table. “You know Henry thinks you hang the moon, right?” she mumbled into his shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fact not fiction (for the first time in years)

fact not fiction (for the first time in years)

 

In a move straight from a Hallmark movie, Emma Swan’s boyfriend got her son a pet for Christmas, at least in theory.

“A kitten,” she hissed, cornering Killian in the kitchen. “You got him a kitten.”

Killian froze with a mug of hot chocolate halfway to his mouth, his eyes widening. “Is that not okay? I thought you both liked Liam’s cat, so you weren’t allergic, and if you don’t want him in the house I could take care of him, he’d probably tear up the carpet anyway-“

“For goodness sake, stop talking,” Emma ordered in a whisper, reaching up to pinch his mouth shut. “Did you see his face? The kid will hate me if he even thinks I’m trying to separate them. Just- really?”

Henry’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Flitwick, no! Mom said you couldn’t-“

Emma closed her eyes and counted to twelve. When she opened them again, taking a deep breath, Killian was eying her warily, as if she were a bomb he really hadn’t meant to start the countdown on. “If that was the new armchair,” she growled, “you’re sleeping on the couch for the next year.”

"We haven’t actually-“ Killian protested, thankfully in a quieter tone this time, but Emma poked him in the chest to cut him off.

“Semantics, Killian. And I know what this is really about, don’t deny it.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t the slightest-“

Emma poked his chest again, glowering at his stupid green Henley for good measure. “Don’t lie to me, Killian,” she warned, and moved past him to refill her cocoa.

“But the cat’s okay,” he ventured after a moment in a clear question.

Henry thundered into the kitchen with wide smile and a black kitten in his arms. Emma could see the tiny claws digging into his flannel pajama shirt, but then again, the kid’s face was completely awash in adoration.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” she sighed, reaching out to scratch the kitten’s head.

\--

It wasn’t that Killian didn’t truly love Henry just for himself, because he really, really did, far more than Emma had dared to hope when she’d run the most important test on her sister-in-law’s latest blind date and mentioned her son.

(She’d been beginning to have hope before she even mentioned the kid. Killian Jones was not only one of the cutest men she’d ever been set up with, but more importantly the most polite, and when she casually mentioned Henry and his eyebrows his only jumped for a moment before an admirable recovery, she’d allowed the spark of hope to grow a bit higher.)

(Turns out he’d already met her kid once before anyway, when David had dragged them both into a game of Frisbee a few weeks ago when Emma was on patrol, and that prior meeting meant that Henry was as welcoming as he’d ever been to Emma’s dates when Killian dropped her off after their second. They’d ended up all at a park again three days later with the same Frisbee; Mary Margaret was terrible and David was worse, and Henry grinned like a Cheshire cat every time Killian complimented his form.)

Their rapport was instantaneous. Granted, the bonding was at first limited to nervous, semi-suspicious glances and Henry’s efforts to teach Killian how to play every video game known to twelve-year-old males, but it was a genuine relationship nonetheless: Killian listened to Henry’s every word. At some point, Henry even began teaching him some sort of gamer’s lingo that became their secret language, one Emma couldn’t decipher but her boyfriend sure could.

As their relationship continued against all personal odds, Emma dragged her past out into the open, anecdote by cautious anecdote, and Killian did the same. The more he told her about where he came from, the more she was awed that he would give so much to Henry.

(He told her about a runaway father and two brothers named Liam, one almost young enough to be his son; he told her about a dead lover and an angry boy he’d only known as Bae. The stories of the children seemed to hurt him more than the rest, but he had nothing but eye-crinkling smiles for Henry.)

After a few months and one threatening-the-boyfriend session that had definitely ended in her son aggressively hugging the boyfriend he was trying to intimidate, Henry lost all reservations. Games at the park across from the sheriff station became Mario Kart every night became Lord of the Rings marathons where the boys argued about popcorn all through Fellowship.

(“Of course we need the extra buttered kind, that’s what popcorn is meant to be."

“Have you even tried just salt, lad? It’s heavenly. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, as your mother would say.”

“Mom, tell Killian that-“

“For heaven’s sake, you each get your own bowl.” Emma snuggled further into the corner of the couch.

“But it’s the _principle_ of it, Mom, I can’t let this travesty occur.”)

But amid the sudden and enthusiastic bro-bonding, or whatever they liked to call it, something else happened: David Nolan, the green-eyed monster.

\--

When David opened the door, he was yelling something to the kitchen about “no, the marshmallows are on the lowest shelf,” and he only spared Emma a quick smile and Killian a solemn nod in greeting.

Henry got a full-on grin and a hug, and Emma rolled her eyes internally as she shoved Killian towards the kitchen with salad and rolls in tow.

“You’ll never guess what Killian got me for Christmas,” Henry panted as he set down the small pile of presents that he’d insisted on carrying. He’d been reluctant to leave Flitwick alone so soon, dithering all the while as Killian set up the bathroom they’d decided to leave the kitten in with a water bowl and a litter box. Emma feared for the shower curtains.

“What’d he get you, then?” David asked, a hint of trepidation creeping into his voice. Emma rolled her eyes for real this time.

Having exchanged muted pleasantries with Mary Margaret, Killian came back around the corner, a cocky grin already forming on his face. Emma pinched him just below the ribs as he passed, which only made his smile fonder.

“A _kitten_?” David repeated in shock, his voice echoing through the whole apartment, and well, it was only downhill from there whether Henry realized it or not.

“Did I hear something about a cat?” Mary Margaret asked without preamble, leaving over to stare at the chicken in the oven. She was wearing a ruffle-edged apron with strawberries printed on it in soft pink, she didn’t appear to be sweating, and overall she was such a perfect picture of holiday domesticity that Emma half expected woodland animals to emerge from the bathroom to help with the mashed potatoes.

“Yes, you did,” Emma groaned as she pulled the plastic wrap off of the salad. “Henry already named him Flitwick. _Flitwick_. The _cat_.”

“How sweet,” Mary Margaret commented diplomatically.

Someone turned on a football game, but David’s discontent muttering and Henry’s excited chattering still filtered over the sound of the television.

“He’s going to shed fur everywhere,” Emma groused. “Real cute.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “You think it’s sweet of Killian, and you know it.”

Emma shook her head as she wandered over to stir the gravy. “Those boys, I swear.”

\--

It had started small, with aforementioned Frisbee and ping-pong and typical guy posturing stuff, but the extent to which it had lasted was starting to frustrate Emma.

Her big (foster) brother, David Nolan, had roomed with a Brit named Liam Jones in college. He’d gotten to know Killian by association once the younger brother was honorably discharged from the Royal Navy at the age of twenty-five, but they’d never been terribly close. Liam had been entirely the driving force between this latest attempt of Mary Margaret’s at matchmaking: he’d only met the elusive Emma Swan once, but he had insisted that his little brother would be good for this sister of his friend’s and, of course, her son that David wouldn’t shut up about.

It took two months for Emma to get into her head that Killian was absolutely serious about his interest in their little family, and David had been left to struggle with the knowledge that not only was an ex-military man in love with his baby sister, but he was also Henry’s new favorite father figure. (“I thought I was going to take Henry to the new Captain America,” Emma had overheard him whining to his wife around month three. “It was our guy thing.”)

\--

(Conversely, Mary Margaret claimed to have started planning their wedding at the first double date, but Emma said she was _definitely_ getting ahead of herself with that one.)

\--

But since neither David nor Killian were quitters, a bizarre battle for Henry’s affections ensued, one fought with pizza and games and more movie tickets. The poor kid’s birthday had seen both men go all out, and in the end Emma had had to return no less than three duplicate video games to the store.

David had run his presents by her a month ahead this year to make sure they weren’t repeating anything again. He’d been a bit sheepish about the whole thing, pulling her aside after a breakfast-for-dinner meal that Killian and Mary Margaret had been solely responsible for to discreetly show her his list and mumble “Just want to make sure I wasn’t getting him anything that, umm, Killian already got. You know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emma had said a bit acridly, looking down the bullet points. “No to the Star Wars books, I’m getting him the Zahn trilogy myself.”

“What about Killian?” David asked with faux nonchalance as he refolded the paper and tucked it in his pocket.

Emma had shrugged. “I don’t know. He said it’s a surprise for both me and Henry.” He’d also said it would blow all other presents out of the water, but Emma was doing her best to stay neutral in this weird power struggle between her boyfriend and her brother, so she kept that bit to herself.

David’s eyes had widened. “… oh. What about a remote-controlled helicopter? I saw one of those at Kohl's while Mary Margaret was shopping-"

“You are such children,” Emma had sighed, pushing her way back to the television.

\--

(A kitten. Killian had gotten them a kitten, and it was probably bouncing off the walls of the bathroom now, ten minutes away in her sensible suburban house, and darn it all if Emma hadn’t been fighting to urge to tug his tiny furry body to her chest as soon as she saw the tips of his ears peeking out from the cardboard box that Killian had used to bring him inside.)

(Killian had gotten them a kitten. Emma was going to cry.)

\--

Christmas dinner at the Nolans’ went off without a hitch despite Emma’s involvement in its preparation. David got the head of the table so that he could carve the chicken, and Mary Margaret took the seat to his right with Henry bouncing in his chair next to her and showing her the fifty-four pictures of Flitwick he’d managed to take on Emma’s phone before they left that morning.

Killian pulled Emma’s chair out for her with a flamboyant gesture, but once he sat down he scooted his chair closer to hers so that their shoulders pressed together throughout dinner.

Henry all but glowed the whole time. He kept sneaking glances up at Killian whenever he spoke, and Emma would’ve thought he didn’t notice except that the hand resting on her knee tightened its grip every time.

After all forks were set down and half a cherry pie and a whole cheesecake had been eaten (mostly courtesy of the pre-teen present), David all but yanked Henry up from the table and dragged him to the TV for whatever video game they’d been playing lately. “You coming, Jones?” he hollered over the opening music.

“Maybe later,” Killian said. His hand was well entwined in Emma’s.

Mary Margaret smiled at the two of them. “I’ll take the other controller,” she called as she stood to go, squeezing Emma’s shoulder in something that was almost a _told you so_ as she made her way to the TV.

Feeling languid and a bit too full, Emma shifted to duck under Killian’s shoulder, slinging his arm over her shoulder. He turned to press a kiss to her head. “You doing okay?” Emma mumbled. She felt more than saw his nod. “When are we gonna Skype Liam and Elsa?”

“In a little while.” Killian’s arm tightened in an unspoken _I’d like to stay here for a while_ , and Emma found that she didn’t want to move either.

(She’d never spent Christmas with a boyfriend before, not ever, and she’d caught a look in Killian’s eye after David said grace that suggested he was even more out of his depth. After a lifetime of holidays far too alone-)

Emma snuggled closer, tangling her legs with his beneath the table. “You know Henry thinks you hang the moon, right?” she mumbled into his shirt.

Killian’s breath snagged in his lungs for a moment. “Swan, I-“

“Guys, come on!” Henry yelled from the living room, excitement pitching his voice higher. “It’s time for presents!”

Smiling, Killian made to stand, but Emma grabbed the collar of his shirt for a quick kiss first, nothing more than lips touching lips. “Love you, you idiot,” she whispered.

No Christmas lights could compare to the way Killian’s face lit up. “Love you too,” he murmured, his fingers lacing tighter in hers. 

\--

“A helicopter?” Henry’s mouth fell open and stayed open as he ripped off the last of the wrapping paper. “That’s so stinkin’ cool! Can we try it now?”

David was an inch away from pumping his fist in victory, and Killian was definitely pouting as he leaned his face into the crook of Emma’s neck.

Emma met her sister-in-law’s eyes over the mountain of discarded paper that had accumulated in front of the tree. “Boys,” she mouthed, shaking her head.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> writer's block is the worst. 
> 
> title from dcfc 'a lack of color' 
> 
> always open for concrit. seriously. if you've got any pointers or mild complaints or whatever, i totally want to hear them.
> 
> merry christmas, all! i hope everyone has a good one.


End file.
